Page 1

Chapter One

Thank you for choosing this book. Join our mailing list and get bargain Kindle books from our bestselling Choc Lit authors every week!

CLICK HERE TO GET MORE LOVELY BOOK DEALS

Liv pressed her hand against her hammering heart and fought to will away the anxiety that clawed at her throat, stealing her breath and threatening to choke her. Her fingers tingled and ached with adrenaline, and she tried to rub the feeling away through the cast that still wrapped around her left wrist, palm and forearm.

She closed her eyes and focussed on taking slow, calming breaths. She’d expected to feel anxious, so had left earlier than needed. Reassuring herself, she took another deep breath and tried to practice the mindfulness that so many people extolled the virtues of. Birdsong filtered through the open car window, joined by the laugher of children in nearby playing fields. The nearest thing to traffic she could hear was a farmer trundling his tractor through fields, doing whatever it was that farmers did with tractors on sunny spring days in March. There were no screaming sirens, no blaring horns and screeching brakes, and none of the roaring traffic and noise she associated with daily life. Or what used to be her daily life.

She didn’t have to rush. She’d given herself plenty of time for the drive, overestimating to make allowances for getting out of the city and pulling over to rest her still-aching body. But the long drive had been easier than she’d expected, leaving her with plenty of time to explore the area and settle her nerves. If anything, she’d enjoyed watching the grey grime of the city slip away and fade into the rich browns, fresh greens and lacy blossoms of the countryside until she’d finally reached Broclington village.

Broclington. The name had been a beacon of hope for the last few weeks — ever since she’d been cajoled into accepting the position. She’d studied the place night after night online and virtually strolled through the streets that made up the large village. She’d seen pictures of the church, and admired the old stonework, the black-and-white gabled history and thatched roofs of the houses that people apparently lived in. She’d read the reviews left by day-trippers, seeking out a brief slice of quintessential British, edge-of-the-Cotswolds life.

It was worlds away from the busy city that had been her world until now. But even the sunniest, best staged photo on her laptop screen hadn’t prepared her for the reality of being there. It was too quiet. Even in the middle of the night, her London apartment still hummed with the sounds of life going on outside. Here, in the middle of the morning, it sounded so different. It smelt different. Everything was too different.

The panic Liv had spent so much of her recent life fighting started to take hold again. The familiar nausea returning as the pressure built inside her chest, and she had to force herself to breathe.

Slowly she blinked and took another deep breath, reassuring herself. Yes, it was different here, and those differences were a major part of the reason she’d accepted the offer. She was safe here. There were no angry, violent patients more interested in hurting her than getting well. Different was good. Even if it was just a little bit scary.

She checked her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Tom Macpearson, her former professor and long-standing mentor, had promised her the job when he visited her in hospital. But the fact the job was already hers didn’t mean she didn’t want to make the best first impression possible — especially as Tom had already left on his sabbatical, and she hadn’t met the other surgery staff.

After taking a moment to touch up her lip gloss and tuck a few errant blonde strands back into her ponytail, she readied herself to explore the village she’d agreed to help look after for the next few months.

* * *

Callum raced after Sarah as she zoomed through the recreation ground, her pigtails flying out behind her, matching the sparkly streamers on her handlebars as she laughed in delight. He’d only taken the stabilisers off her bike the night before, and his heart slammed against his ribs as he sprinted to keep up with her.

He was terrified she’d come flying off the bike any second and hurt herself. Obviously she was wearing a helmet and knee and elbow pads, but the problem with being a doctor was you got used to seeing the horrific injuries people managed to inflict on themselves, and he couldn’t help but worry. In actual years his daughter was only six, but in attitude she was maturer, and her mother’s independence and mile-wide stubborn streak were already getting her into trouble.

‘Daddy, Daddy, look! I’m doing it. Look how fast I can go!’ She squealed in excitement as she raced past him again.

‘Be careful, sweetheart. Maybe slow down a little?’ Callum begged.

‘No way. This is too much fun!’ Sarah pushed down harder on the peddles, speeding the bike even faster.

‘All right. But just one more lap.’ Callum checked his watch. ‘Then I need to drop you off at Mrs Turner’s and head into the surgery.’

‘But it’s the weekend.’ Sarah’s whine of complaint streaked past him as she tore up the recreation ground path.

‘People still get sick and hurt, even at the weekend. And now I’m running the surgery, I have a lot more paperwork to do.’ Callum tried to reason with her. ‘And I’m meeting the doctor who’s covering for your grandad now.’

Sarah squealed to a stop in front of him, spinning the bike sideways like a pro. ‘I miss Grandad and Grandma. I hope they come back from their samaticable soon. And I hope they stay home this time.’

‘It’s sa-ba-tic-al.’ Callum sounded the word out for Sarah, yet again overwhelmed with the responsibility of being both father and mother to the incredible little girl in front of him.

‘Sabbatical,’ Sarah repeated obediently, watching for her father’s approving nod. ‘Sabbaticals suck.’ She poked her tongue out.

‘Little girls shouldn’t say words like that,’ Callum chided gently, while personally agreeing. He missed his parents, and all the support they gave him in bringing up Sarah. But he couldn’t resent them the adventure of living in Africa and helping set up urgent care centres for some of the poorest people on the planet. They’d originally only planned to be there a few months, but that stretched into a few more, and as soon as they returned from one trip they were planning the next, and the next. It was over eighteen months since they’d regularly lived in Broclington, and he still hadn’t fully gotten to grips with juggling his responsibilities to the surgery and managing his own life and Sarah’s.

On their last visit, his parents had tried hard to hide their dismay at the chaos he’d wrought in the village surgery, and his mother — usually the practice manager ‒ had blitzed through it with her usual ease in the weeks they’d been home before jetting off again.

At least this time his father had managed to source a semi-permanent replacement, instead of the different-almost-every-day locums who’d been there, contributing to the general chaos.

‘Hey?’ Sarah looked up at him. ‘If you’re getting a new doctor, does that mean you can come home more early?’

‘Yes, munchkin, hopefully I will be home “more early” more often.’ He tweaked her nose.

‘Awesome sauce!’ She powered down against her pedals. ‘Race ya!’